


Into The Unknown

by orphan_account



Category: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, BAMF Magnus Bane, Canon Divergence, Culture Shock, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Immortal Alec Lightwood, Immortal Husbands, Immortal Magnus Bane, Lots of Sex, M/M, Oh, Oral Sex, Prince of Hell Magnus Bane, Rimming, Sex, Slow Burn, Strangers to enemies, That is all, alternate universe in which Alec doesn't and never did have feelings for Jace, bc im a bitch for dragons, cannon divergence mixed with AU?, if forgot, kind of, later though, ooooh self burn, slower than me trying to publish chapters, thanks for coming to my ted talks, they'll prolly be dragons, they're brothers, this burn is hella slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21866335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: An exchange was agreed upon decades before, during war, when anyone would do anything for peace. Now a king has come to collect his dues, a firstborn to take as his bride.Alec refuses to let his little sister traverse Edom so he offers himself as recompense and hopes that the King is satisfied with a husband.Magnus just wants to finally secure peace and alliance for his country, worn thin with all the death among friends he has seen.As tensions defuze and true intentions come to light, neither king nor war hero, find themselves particularly upset with the bargain.im orphaning this work but if one of you reads this bullshit and decides that you want to continue/rewrite it feel free.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Ragnor Fell/Catarina Loss
Comments: 29
Kudos: 131





	1. The First Step

Alec looked out over the gardens, his arms crossed and his shoulders stiff. The arcing windows in the Hall of Angels gave him a near bird's-eye view of Alicante, which allowed him to watch the visitors enter the city of glass. Their power was impressive, flashes of magic in all the colors of the rainbow darted in and out of the caravan. 

His brooding was interrupted by one of the guards, “Alec, the Consul and Inquisitor would like to see you,” Raj was brusque but it rolled off his shoulders. There weren’t many things that he hadn’t seen after the war so hostility was nothing to blink at. That was what was probably upsetting his parents, making them call for their war hero son during the celebration. 

He had every right to join the festivities but he was a general of the Idrisian army, not a member of the court. It was nothing if not a spectacle, to watch his family and their friends drown their brain in alcohol as the king of Edom threw open the doors to the grand hall. 

Alec had his seat in the shadows at the end of the grand table that took up most of the back wall. It loomed over the rest of the room on a raised pulpit several feet off the floor. Alec preferred his corner of the table so it would be much more likely that it would go unnoticed that he did not drink and flail about in the celebration. Now, he was more grateful than ever that he was out of sight because his parents glinted with a special kind of anger that radiated across the room at the king that stood before them.

The man was impressive, tan skin and cat eyes that glowed with power. His navy shirt was silken and patterned with something that Alec couldn’t discern from where he sat. 

“My name is Magnus Bane, son of the late ruler of Edom, King Asmodeus, and successor to the throne,” Magnus’s voice swept through the room, strong and sure. “The war has ended and I have come to collect my realm’s payment.” 

“I am dearly sorry, your highness,” the title was spat through his father’s gritted teeth, “but we don’t have what our predecessors had for you to take in recompense, although we have a handsome payment in exchange.” 

The response was electric, “ _ I  _ am the one that is dearly sorry Consul. We just got out of a war as allies and I would hate to see another bought of fighting so soon after the devastation.” If His people were warriors, Alec thought, what stood before them was a god. Magnus held a courtroom intelligence and the delicate silk of his clothes held a sharp swell of muscle beneath them. Alec was impressed, not many people could get his father to turn that sort of purple color in such a short amount of time. 

His mother tried to intercede, “King Bane, please,” every word was placating, “We would love for you and your people to join us in our feast and make merry so that we may have time to talk and come to an arrangement.” She offered her hands out gently, as though the royalty in their presence was some kind of wild animal that she could coax into submission with table scraps. 

The king’s eyes hardened, “I came to collect what I was promised, Inquisitor. I will not be so gracious as to ask for it a second time.” The waves of confusion rolled out over the people of Idris, what was promised? They knew there must be payment for ally-ship, but what could be more precious than angelic weapons, pure gold, and jewels glittering in every color a person could think of? 

Alec had an inkling of the treasure trove that was agreed upon in return for Hell’s assistance in winning the war against the demons that ripped a hole into their universe. He had studied their inter-kingdom relationship to the furthest extent that written history allowed. There wasn’t very much for him to glean because of the terse language difference and because of the distaste his people had for Edom’s. There had been attempts at peace in the past, Edom always suffering for the lack of it, Idris calling the lack of blood ties as a reason not to ally themselves with the barbaric race from hell. 

The mood of the party-goers turned sour and within moments they had dispersed from the hall, leaving only his parents, siblings, and himself at the table. His mother and father had their heads bent close together, whispering urgently to the other and gesturing as Isabelle, clearly looking for an out in this deal that had been made decades ago. 

Izzy is the first one to break, “ _ What _ is happening.” 

It’s more of a demand for information than a question. Her hair flies behind her like a lion’s mane and the red on her lips screams her defiance more than her tone ever could. Maryse can’t bring herself to meet Isabelle’s fierce gaze and the guilt-ridden expression on Robert’s face is enough to confirm Alec’s suspicions. 

Jace caught Alec’s eye and he knew that his brother had come to the same conclusion he had, and stepped between their sister and their parents as though he could shield her from the inevitable. “A long time ago, when your grandmother and grandfather still sat as leaders of the Clave, we befell a war that we couldn’t win on our own,” Robert used the same voice he had when they were children, curling up to hear stories about dragons and princesses locked in high towers as though now it would distract them from the cloud of doom that hovered above their heads. 

“A gaping hole was torn in the sky by the mother of demons. Soon enough, monsters were pouring out of the rift and blood flowed through the streets of Alicante, fires lighting the midnight clouds. No matter how many were killed, more came though. They asked for help from Asmodeus, King of Edom and Magnus’s father. He gave it with the condition that a truce could finally be upheld after the war was won,” Robert breaks off like there’s nothing left to say, his head falling into his hands. 

“I don’t understand,” Jace said, his head tipped in question. “How is a peace treaty a bad thing? It sounds like one of the most beneficial things to come from the bloodshed.” 

Maryse’s face pinched with pain, “It is the insurance of peace that is so costly, not peace itself.” 

Isabelle’s face drained of blood and Jace pulled her to his chest. “Absolutely not, they can’t have Izzy.” The determination that filled his brother, the knowledge that Jace would die before letting Isabelle descend into hell, broke something in Alec. 

The despair in Robert’s posture burned him no matter how many times they found themselves at odds. “We have no choice. They were promised a firstborn bride and if we don’t comply they will murder every man, woman, and child in Idris.”

Jace's shoulders were tense and he bared his teeth, cradling Isabelle all that much closer. “There has to be something you can do,” he hissed. 

Alec heard the words from his father replaying in his head like a broken record. There are options, he thought to himself, a bride, **_or_** _a_ firstborn. 

Isabelle pushed off Jace’s chest, “If it’s what needs to be done then I’ll do it.” 

Alec had never known his sister to be anything but full of rebellion and the compliance that set her chin tilted upwards created one more thing from him to mourn. How brave she was. He’ll remember that look on her face until his dying breath. 

“Alec, you’re not going to say anything? You’re not going to try and save our sister from this,” Jace was in hysterics. 

He gave his brother a sad smile, pulling both of his siblings into his embrace. They looked up at him, Jace full of anger and Isabelle collapsing under the weight of compliance. Alec squeezed Jace and held Izzy’s face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead. He could taste the confusion roiling beneath the tension of the room. He sidestepped his two best friends in the world and pushed himself between them and his parents, protecting them the same way Jace had for Izzy moments before. 

“She won’t be going to Edom. They asked for a firstborn, and they will get one.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alec had wasted no time in getting to his room and packing his things. There weren’t many of them so it took him only half an hour before his few sets of black clothing, secondary pair of boots, bow and arrows, books, and a small box of sentimental items were packed into a tiny chest on wheels. Alec wished that it hurt to see his room bare but it looked no different than it had before he stowed away all his belongings. 

He hauled the case down the staircase out to the front of the manor house where the Edomite soldiers would whisk it off to one of their carts for the long journey to the brimstone palace waiting for him and King Bane. Alec stood on the stoop watching his things get loaded until his eye was caught by movement in the window. Robert and Maryse stood framed in the glass; Their blank faces and stiff posture made them look like one of the paintings in the library that scared the Lightwood siblings as children, and still managed to unsettle them well into adulthood. 

A cloud of dust trickled down the road from the western horizon, a man on horseback, King Bane, Alec was sure. It took only a minute or two for him to arrive, pulling the red steed to a halt at the bottom of the front steps. They sized each other up, Magnus’s gaze burning Alec’s skin as Alec studied him just as hard. 

He nearly bowed under the weight of this duty. He could take war and broken bones and hard labor, but this pain was something that he hadn’t had to shoulder before this moment. Alec took a deep breath, preparing himself to make the first step into the unknown and before his foot could hit the first step Isabelle flew out the door and barreled straight into his chest. The force of her love made him stagger but he gathered her into his arms nonetheless. He held her tight and could feel himself trembling. He wondered if he was more upset than he thought until his shirt felt wet and he realized it was Isabelle that was shaking and sobbing into his chest. 

It shook Alec to his core to feel his sister cry. She might have had more emotions than he knew what to do with on a good day, but he had yet to see a tear fall down her face unless she was curled over with laughter. Alec pressed his lips to the crown of her head and whispered into her hair, “I can’t swear that everything will be okay,” he paused and crushed all the air out of his lungs before he spoke again. “But I promise that you’re worth every second of whatever happens.” 

The reassurance only made her cry harder. Alec was at a loss and decided to simply stroke her hair until she was hiccuping into his shirt. When she looked up at him with big watery eyes, his heart ripped to shreds where he stood. Isabelle was his whole world and it hurt more than anything else to see her suffer. She gave him one more fierce hug before she pulled away and stomped over to Magnus, astride his horse. 

He looked like a warrior, power crackling around him making the air smell of ozone. His eyes were foreign but the look in them held the sadness of people loved and lost, like he knew the hurt that lanced through the two siblings. Isabelle’s eyes sat level with the horses shoulder but for one striking second, she was more terrifying than a king with infinite power because she held all the anger of the old gods, deities long forgotten but festering in their hate for millennia, and she wielded it like she was meant to burn the world to the ground. 

“If you hurt him,” Isabelle’s voice was deadly quiet, “I will hunt you to the ends of the earth, and I will not stop until the sun takes its last dying breath and the universe is no more.” Magnus gave her a sharp nod in what Alec could almost describe as respect. Satisfied, she turned back and gave Alec one last hug that was so tight it made it hard to breathe. 

“You know he’s not really mad at you, right?” Izzy didn’t have to say it was Jace she was talking about. She didn’t have to say that even though he wasn’t out there saying goodbye to his brother, it wasn’t just Alec that ached from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. 

Alec pulled away from Isabelle, “Tell him I still love him. Tell him that this doesn’t change anything.” She offered him a sniffle and small smile. He looked at her, memorizing her face. He didn’t know if he’d ever be allowed to come back and he didn’t want to forget the way her hair fell around her face, what she looked like when she smiled at him, no matter how sad. He didn’t want to forget how she smelled like orange blossoms and the marzipan she would steal from the kitchens. He needed her in his life, but what he needed more than that is to have her safe and sound and home. 

Alec straightened his shoulders and as he took that first step into his new life, he felt something inside him shift. 

  
  



	2. every second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Magnus have a bit of a misunderstanding. Every misstep is still a forward movement. It all works out in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please be nice, I am wasted and I finished this chapter in 45 minutes. I will probably edit this at some point but today is not that day. 
> 
> Also, shout out to Grammarly for making sure that all my errors are fixed because I cannot spell for shit at the moment.
> 
> if you want to yell at me about my writing, feel free to do so on twitter @gigidarling_, on snapchat @deviantofnormal, or Tumblr @deathofsirens

Magnus was surprised at the ferocity in the tiny girl that had confronted him in defense of her brother. Or at least that’s what he assumed, they looked quite similar, with pale skin and hair that was so brown it was almost black. They were darkly beautiful, the blonde that hung in the second story window was vastly different than the two on the stoop. At first, he had thought the golden boy was the girl’s betrothed, but the longing looks he was tossing to the young general and the hateful ones Magnus received made him wonder if it was his bride to be that he was in love with.

It made Magnus feel dirty, to steal someone’s lover that way, but a whole realm of people needed this man, this alliance, to avoid living in the dirt that they were so accustomed to. The sacrifice of a few for the greater good was worth every ounce of discomfort.

He still felt sorry for the man.

Magnus could see his new counterpart steeling himself he made his way down the white marble steps. He made no move to dismount even as big hazel eyes looked up at him. “Where do you expect me to ride?” The question was direct and Magnus had to hand it to him, his containment of fear was remarkable. Usually, his cat eyes and aura of magic made people look at him with a heavy dose of respect at the very least and typically a touch of fear.

Magnus raised an eyebrow at him, “I suspect that you can mount behind me if you wish, it’s a terribly long walk to the capitol building for the wedding ceremony.” He winced internally at the sound of his speech. He was familiar with Idrisian common tongue, enough to speak it with little effort, but his accent was heavy and sometimes muddled communication.

The soldier studied him, eyes calculating in a way that he had only seen in spies and children. Magnus offered him a hand. Callouses were abundant and his grip spoke of hard work and dedication to a craft. The general swung up behind him and kept his few inches of distance between them. Magnus couldn’t for the life of him figure out why it stung to be kept at arm's length; Magnus had eaten with the Idrisian army and they had smashed the dishes he had used after he had finished his food. He assumed that the royalty of the realm would treat him the same, if not worse than the foot soldiers he fought beside, so a distaste for contact would have been the least of his actions.

Magnus couldn’t stand to lose any more time than he already had, so he dug his heels into his horse and sped off down the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took them about an hour on horseback to reach the church that the ceremony was to be held. Magnus dropped him off to be dressed up in the bauble encrusted, shiny garments of Idrisian wedding custom. It was gaudy and stupid, not allowing for movement or comfort. Magnus didn’t kid himself, he was extravagant with the best of them, wearing silks and calf leather trousers. The difference between them though, was that these silly garments were ones of arrogant nature, and his were practicality sheathed in luxury.

He was in his people’s wedding color as well, a blue velvet jacket over a white linen shirt and his leather riding pants. Magnus wasn’t about to be rude to these people traditions, but it wasn’t a wedding he considered binding so comfort was his main priority. He stood at the end of an aisle in a dome ceilinged church, all blinding white and reflective. There was an angel on the dais that observed the congregation with condemnation, a sword brandished in one hand and a chalice held aloft in the other. Its gaze made him shiver in the stale air.

Magnus was lost in thought while a man in white robes spoke to the people gathered. Ragnor stood beside him, his green skin and grouching appearance a beautiful contrast to the sterile feel of the pulpit. Then the doors at the back of the church opened and in stepped the dark-haired girl and his bride to be. Magnus had to catch his breath at the sight of him. He had been dressed in a golden suit jacket, shimmering with embroidered crystals and some sort of glitter.

The two ascended to the platform and the only thought that crossed his mind was that he had quite the stroke of luck to get someone so handsome. Magnus mostly ignored the man preaching at the room and studied his bride. His hazel eyes were wet with tears but the expression he had was one of detestment and irritability. Magnus almost laughed to himself in a room full of people.

The priest cleared his throat and looked at him expectantly. Magnus wasn’t exactly sure what it was that he was supposed to be doing so he made a noise in the back of his throat hoping that it would be perceived as a yes or no to fit whatever it was that was asked of him. The expression he received was one of exasperation. Magnus supposed it must have been good enough because the priest went on with the ceremony.

A few more questions were asked and Magnus and his bride gave their consent each time, and when the priest paused for a moment, he thought they were done until a voice rang through his mind, “Let them be marked with the wedded union rune unite them for the rest of their days.”

“Ummm,” Magnus interrupted, brows raised and furrowed, “You know I can’t actually be marked with runes, right?”

The priest huffed. “We have broaches for you to wear because of the magical discrepancies.” It made sense to Magnus and he appreciated the logic for what it was, but there was something about the self-righteous cleric that made Magnus want to be difficult. He closed his eyes and sighed his ascent.

They exchanged pins. It was heavy and pulled at the threads of Magnus’s velveteen jacket. The sensation made him grit his teeth but he kept a neutral expression in hopes of saving this already disastrous wedding. It started on the wrong foot and he very much doubted that it would end on anything but.

The gathered people stood and ushered them out into the sunshine that lit the stunning landscape of Alicante. Magnus didn’t even have time to appreciate the view before he was swept away down the main street to a quaint but quality building. He and his new spouse stumbled up onto the steps and the crowd that hovered below them was somehow buzzing and silent all at once. Magnus’s counterpart had wide eyes and a spooked air about him, while Magnus himself was mostly confused by the whole situation.

The canting priest melted out of the crowd and turned to face the gathering, “It is now time for the sealing of the vows, let it be seen before the Angel and approved.” The words oozed from his mouth with a sleazy sort of zeal. Magnus was a bit more than a child stumbling about in the dark. Suddenly, he had wished he listened to Caterina when she told him to study these new people before launching himself headlong into an arranged marriage. Magnus’s spouse closed his eyes and took a deep breath before taking his hand and pushing the sturdy door open and pulling him through.

The room was a sort of bedroom, lit with candles on a table alongside a bag that was embossed with A L in a looping script. The general was stood stiff facing the bed, his back to Magnus. He didn’t have time to be tiptoeing around his skittish bride so he set about searching the room for anything that would be useful for them on the trip to the caravan back to Edom. Magnus found his satchel with a change of clothes and a few self-care items that he knew Ragnor, despite his abrasive demeanor, had packed up for him. He slipped out of his jacket and undershirt, folding them carefully and putting them back in his bag. Now that he was closer to the bag, he saw the A and L were attached to a name, Alexander Lightwood. Magnus wanted to turn the words over in his mouth. It was classic and held a dignity he didn’t know a name could have.

He turned to find Alexander still standing, frozen in the spot he had stopped, and breathing shallow. Magnus moved to stand in front of him, unsure but blundering about in his usual manner to hold onto a slight air of normalcy. “Do you like this thing?” Magnus asked absently, hands running along the buckles and clasps of the golden jacket. “It seems like a lot more trouble than it’s worth to try and get you out of this thing politely.”

Alexander didn’t respond and simply began fumbling mechanically with the pieces. Magnus huffed, it wasn’t reasonable to spend an hour trying to get it off him when they had precious ground to be covering. The convoy moved much slower than two people on horseback but they wouldn’t reach them until nightfall and the sun wasn’t even a quarter of the way up in the summer sky.

Magnus folded over and pulled out his boot knife, bringing it to the collar of the gilded fabric. “Don’t move, I would like very much to keep you in once piece,” Magnus’s voice was firm, “Wives are hard to get, you know.” He began to cut through the fabric with barely any pressure on the tip of the blade. It was the sharpest edge Magnus had ever owned and he meant it when he said he really would like to keep Alexander undamaged. He made it about halfway down when he figured he could rip it the rest of the way off. Grabbing the edges, he let his muscles strain as he shredded the rest of the material.

Magnus pushed the limp hangings off Alexander’s broad shoulders and set about pulling the rest of the things off him once he had realized his wife wasn’t about to do it for himself. He was quite strange, Magnus thought. He had known that Idrisians were not your average people, rich and arrogant to the point of thinking they were they Angel’s gift to all living things on earth and everywhere else, but Alexander was particularly odd. He thought that he would at least undress himself. Magnus didn’t mind it much, but he was a king and he refused to be thought of as anything less.

“Are you going to undress yourself? We have quite a bit to do in a short amount of time,” Magnus let his voice tail off while he set about getting out the soap Ragnor had packed for him and washing in the water basin that sat in the corner. Magnus turned around, drying off his hands, “ _What_ are you _doing?”_ His voice was incredulous. Not that Magnus was likely to admit it, but he was panicking a bit. There in the center of the room stood Alexander in all his naked glory and while Magnus wasn’t exactly opposed, it's not like they knew each other and he wasn’t one to sleep with someone whose heart was already taken.

“What do you mean,” Alexander’s voice was timid and void of emotion all at the same time. Magnus could tell he was clearly uncomfortable and it only served to make Magnus squirm in his boots.

“What do you _mean_ what do I mean?” Magnus had asked, averting his eyes. “We have lots of ground to cover and I don’t think you’ll want to travel bare.”

“We-“ Alexander broke off, his fingers fidgeted with themselves, “We’re supposed to consummate the marriage so the covenant can be sealed.” His supreme discomfort was so blinding to Magnus that anything else that should have been absorbed, was lost in the light.

“What on earth makes you think I give two fucks about Idrisian traditions? All I need is for them to think we followed all the rules until we get the hell out of here,” Magnus was appalled that this man thought he would fuck for custom. He handed Alexander a shirt and pants, “ Besides Alexander, I like to sleep with willing participants.” Magnus turned back to his satchel and busied himself with putting things away while he listened to Alexander get dressed.

They didn’t speak while they readied themselves for the road ahead, just quietly adjusted themselves until they were set. Magnus packed the side bags on his horse with their belongings and pulled himself up onto her back. Alexander was staring blankly at the road ahead, so Magnus once again offered him his hand. It was beginning to feel like a peace offering rather than an extension of help. Alexander took his hand just like before, and hauled himself up onto her bare back with grace.

As they rode out in the mid-day sun, Alexander spoke just loud enough to be heard over the hoofbeats, “Alec.” He paused “You can call me Alec.”


	3. a false sense of control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec has been in control his whole life, now as things have slipped out of his grip, he lashes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a couple of hundred words shorter than the other chapters but considering it's only been two days since I last posted, and my publishing goal is a new part every 12 to 15 days, I'd say I'm not doing half bad. Besides, I wanted to get Magnus's perspective on the events in this chapter and I wouldn't be able to if I fell too far down Alec's mental rabbit hole.
> 
> if you want to yell at me about my writing, feel free to do so on twitter @gigidarling_, on snapchat @deviantofnormal, or Tumblr @deathofsirens

Alec felt a bit sick. He had ridden horses before, but not this fast nor for this distance. He and King Magnus had been riding for several hours and the sun had started falling towards the western sky. As they passed a stream, Magnus reigned in his horse and eased her over to the water. He slid off her back and offered his hand to Alec.

It almost irked Alec, to be continually offered help like he couldn’t manage himself. He was the general of the Idrisian army, well, not so much anymore, but he still had the experience of a seasoned warrior despite the lack of equine traveling in Alicante and it stung to be treated as anything less. Alec glared at the proffered appendage, “I’m not helpless. I don’t need to be treated like something delicate.” His feelings still stung from earlier in the day. 

As Alec slipped down, he stumbled into Magnus the second his feet hit the earth, falling into his arms. Sealegs were not just for ships; Alec had forgotten. Magnus looked down at him with a small smile and a raised eyebrow decorating his features. He smelled like lightning and something woody. Alec could feel his face burning with embarrassment so he glared harder.

He felt Magnus’s arms tense as his cat eyes flashed, fixed on something just behind Alec’s head. “What is it?” Alec asked, trying to turn in Magnus’s hold.

Magnus didn’t look at him, “Shhh,” Even with the small amount of time Alec had known this man that had crashed landed in his life, he never seemed like the rigid type, so the conviction in Magnus’s voice shut him up quickly. Alec froze and let himself be eased into the grass, Magnus’s eyes never moving from whatever it was he was looking at.

Magnus stepped in front of him and braced his stance, confidence and power radiated from every iota of his being. Indigo magic swirled around him, his hands held glowing spheres and the foliage a few yards away rattled. Alec yanked his dagger from the sheath on his thigh and whispered an angelic name. It glowed in his grip.

A pack of ravener demons emerged from the thatch of trees, creeping and growling their approach. Alec could feel his heart beating at his ribcage, terror crept into the fringes of his mind. That was the kind of demon they were, getting their next meal by fraying the sanity of their prey with fear. The pack spread, curved into a semi-circle, whipping their scorpion-like tails and hissing. Alec had made a move to stand but his balance hadn’t returned to him and he spilled back onto the ground.

Magnus however, didn’t waver. His magic stretched out and Alec watched as each of the monsters fell to dust, more than a dozen of them all gone with hardly a flick of the wrist. Glistening black eyes and a few fanged teeth were all that remained, grisly trophies for defeating his enemies. Magnus was powerful, more so than anyone had realized and Alec was now _his_. He thought he should be afraid of Magnus, be terrified of anyone with such magnitude, and while Alec didn’t necessarily trust his spouse, he didn’t fear for his safety. Magnus hadn’t done anything but treat Alec with gentility, understanding, and kindness despite his brash personality and humiliating stumble earlier in the day.

Magnus relaxed his posture and turned back to Alec. He didn’t notice the attention, too busy fuming to be aware of eyes on him. Alec was sick of his life, everything he had slipping between his fingers like grains of sand. He spent his entire life wrapped up in restraint and observation, determined to be the best his lineage had ever seen, hoping that achievement would be enough to assure that his love of men flew under the radar. He put in hours of self-restraint to hold on to some semblance of control over his life since his heart always roamed just out of reach. Now, because of Magnus, it was all falling to pieces. He couldn’t even stand on his own two feet. Alec was just one floundering case of embarrassment after another.

He was thrust rather abruptly back to the present as a shadow fell across his face. Magnus was standing over him but somehow managed to look hesitant despite himself. “Can I help you up?”

Alec flashed, “No, I told you I don’t need your help and I certainly don’t need to be treated like an infant.” He knew the moment he spat the words that his anger was misdirected but he couldn’t manage to reign himself in. “I have been handling myself for the past twenty-four years just fine without someone stepping in whenever the littlest thing comes up and I surely don’t need someone like _you_ doing it either.”

It would have been better if Magnus looked hurt, instead, Alec watched his walls go up and turn every into every inch of the king he was. “Fine, you can stay here and watch Camille.” he gestured to the mare that was watching the scene unfold with interest. “I am going to go wash up and drink at the river. If another pack of demons shows up, don’t bother yelling.” He turned, no emotion to his walk, and disappeared into the brush.

Alec sighed. He wasn’t looking to end his marriage before it even started no matter how upset he was that it had happened in the first place. Alec doubted King Magnus would let him walk away no matter how miserable they were and his sense of duty was too vigilant to dismiss. He would have a successful marriage, if not to keep his sister safe, but to give himself the chance at marrying someone he might actually be happy with, instead of being forced to marry a woman which would leave them in an unhappy, unpleasurable arrangement.

He needed to talk to Isabelle, she always knew how to ease his abrasiveness into something a bit more agreeable by the general masses, and if he there was one thing that he couldn’t go without, it was amicability. Alec looked up at the horse, Camille, Magnus had called her, and asked, “What the hell am I supposed to do?” His head hung heavy in his hands and no amount of scrubbing at his face would make his nerves settle. She brayed back at him.

“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean,” Alec said looking up at her miserably. Upon receiving a suspiciously aggravated look, he defended himself, “I don’t exactly _speak horse_ you know.”

He gave a doubtful glance at his legs. “Do you think I've got my balance back?” Camille snorted. Alec shot her a forlorn look, “Some help you are.” He propped his arm behind him and pushed himself to his feet. After a moment of swaying, he had become steady to take a few wobbly steps to the horse so he could lean against her. Camille snorted again. Alec took a moment to ponder if the mare’s only attitude was irritation and disbelief, or if it was just him. The longer he spoke to her, the more he was convinced it was the former.

“Look,” Alec told her, “it's not that I have a problem with him being a downworlder, I don’t know why I _even said_ that. I’m just bitter I guess.” He shrugged. Sure it was weird talking to a horse, but at this point, Alec had to have some sort of sounding board and if Camille was going to humor him, he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

“I mean, he comes waltzing into the Hall of Angels and just expects we hand over someone to marry. Our _grandparents_ promised that, not my parents and definitely not me.” Camille gave him a look.

“Yeah, I know, I've read plenty on the history of nations but it’s a lot different when it’s _your_ life being torn apart, not someone in a textbook, that’s in a language you can hardly read, about people that have been dead for years.” There was no answer from Camille this time around. Alec pushed his face into her mane and sighed. He knew better than anyone that there was no right answer to any problem you faced. No matter how you spun it, someone was bound to get the short end of the stick. Alec was just exhausted, run ragged from always intentionally choosing the short end so no one else would have to deal with the repercussions.

He had to put on his game face for one last battle and he knew it. Alec was never the one to run from the weight he had decided to shoulder, and this was no different than any of the times before. This whole marriage was just another hurdle in the series of obstacles that had been his life as Alexander Lightwood. All he had to do was calm his emotions and focus on what he knew to be true.

Magnus Bane was kind even though Alec was in a chronic foul mood. Alec was determined to make this work and stubborn as hell. That was all there needed to be for Alec to put his head down and think of an apology. He threaded his fingers into Camille’s mane and began to mindlessly untangle the red hair.

~~~~~

When Magnus returned thirty or so minutes later, sopping wet and looking like an angry cat, Alec almost decided to put off testing the waters again so quickly. He didn’t want to let this stew between them. Izzy would tell him every time he and Jace fought, “time means distance and distance means no solution.” Alec wanted this just as much as he didn’t and if he had to fumble through an apology every day for the rest of his life, he figured he would at least get better at them after a while.

“Are you okay?” Alec’s voice crept through the tense air.

Magnus whipped around to face him, eyes blazing. “Do I look particularly okay to you Alexander?” His words cut like a knife. Alec flinched even though he knew he deserved them. He trained his eyes firmly on the intricate pattern he had woven in Camille’s mane.

Alec shrank back, “No, not really, and I have to take some responsibility for that.” Alec didn’t get a response but he could feel Magnus’s gaze burning into him.

“What I mean to say,” Alec tried again, “is that I’m not very good at apologies.” He was greeted with narrowed cat eyes and thick suspicion. It made Alec sigh as he fidgeted with the strands of hair he was twining together.

“Look, I don’t know what I’m doing and I’ll be the first to admit that, and I’m not without my own misunderstandings and prejudices because of the way I was raised and the lack of exposure to people that are different from me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do better,” Alec paused and thought for a moment, “to _be_ better.” The last bit was said so quietly, Alec could see Magnus strain to hear it.

The rage in his eyes flickered. “We’ll have to see,” Magnus said, voice sterile, “actions often speak louder than words.” Alec was rational with the best of them, but he swore he could taste the barest hints of hope in Magnus’s words. He was willing to let Alec prove himself and that was more than he felt he could ask for.


End file.
